Beautiful
by HermioneHecate
Summary: Set during Season 1. Horatio's darkest secrets are laid bare in front of Calleigh, and she's taking his salvation into her own hands. See A/N inside for more information. Slight DuCaine.


**A/N:** I noticed – in the "Cross Jurisdictions" episode especially – that Horatio's clothes were a bit too big for him in the first season. He was slighty larger in the 1997 flashback episode and in subsequent seasons…now we all know that was unintentional, but it provided "inspiration" for the following fic. What if Horatio had an underlying condition for the brief weight loss? The following represents a scenario I discussed with my friends.

I wrote this assuming that you the reader are already familiar with the show and the characters. However, I provided brief non-canon exposition throughout.

"Stay tuned" for more fanfictions coming down the pipeline. I have a few in the works including my vision of the doomed Season 11. As much as I hate the fact the series didn't get a proper ending, I can flex my creative muscles and write it the way I think it should have ended.

Setting: Sometime during Season 1.

Shippers: Slight DuCaine, my first love, I always come back to these would-be lovers.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the show or any of the canon characters, and I am not making any money off this story.

The sound of water trickling from the faucet into the bathroom sink was deafening. The dangerously rapid thumping of his heart inside his chest cavity shook every bone in his body. A throbbing sensation right behind his eyes rattled his skull. Horatio held his trembling hands under the rush of the cold water and splashed his face with the liquid. His body quivered at the sensation.

His face soaked from the water, he looked up at himself in the mirror. He never liked what stared back at him: an ugly yet near-perfect likeness of his father. His father, whose cold stare from dead eyes still drove him to tears. The tears, evocative of the horrors endured in his youth, mixed with the water still dripping off his face. His face, formerly a mosaic of bruises and cuts at the hand of his father. His father, a miserable and lost soul…like he was becoming.

Horatio took a deep breath and wiped his face dry. He stared down at the immaculately drawn lines of white powder on an immaculately clean rectangular cutout of mirror. He eagerly grabbed a dollar bill lying on the counter and rolled it up tightly to form a straw.

"Breakfast is served," he told himself with a grin. Holding the bill up to his nose, he quickly sniffed up the lines in a flawless motion. As the last granules of the powder went up his nose, he couldn't help but look at the pair of eyes staring back at him on the smaller mirror. The brilliantly blue orbs were nothing like his father's dull brown ones, but he could still see the pain carried over from his childhood. The horrors he witnessed with those very eyes would never leave him.

The throbbing in his head subsided, and soon his veins would ignite with an unequaled rush. No cup of coffee, no good fuck, nothing was as good to him as the feeling of cocaine in his body.

With every inhalation of the drug, with every rush he felt when it entered his system, he felt guilty. Drugs caused his father to lash out at his family. They caused his father to spiral out of control and murder his mother. Drugs killed his brother Raymond. Now, drugs were killing him.

But he didn't care anymore. Outside of his job, he had nothing. No family, no lover to hold him while he cried, not even a social life. Work and drugs consumed his entire existence, and in some perverse way that suited him just fine.

Time for work. Time to put life and limb in peril for the city he loved so much. He quickly put on a shirt after making sure his nose and mouth were free of the all-telling white powder, then he grabbed his suit jacket and headed out the door.

"Is it just me, or is H looking a little slim these days?" Speed asked the others during the day shift's ritual of coffee in the break room before callout. "Maybe he's got a new workout routine down." Their boss had just gone back to his office after grabbing his cup of joe, and Speed wasn't the only one who noticed his clothes were getting to be a bit big for him.

"Maybe he's finally going out with Yelina and he wants to look good for her," Eric pondered.

The two men turned to Calleigh curiously. They knew that she of all people would be able to get the truth out of the fearless Lieutenant…if she didn't already know.

Calleigh sighed. "Do we even need to know his business?" she asked them. "What if he's sick?"

"Why would he be here, then?" Speed replied in his trademark smartass tone.

Calleigh shot him a dangerous look. "Maybe he doesn't feel like being cooped up in that empty house of his all day. I'm just saying, he's a very private man and he wouldn't want us intruding on his life like that. If it was serious, I'm sure he would tell us."

But deep in the recesses of her mind, though, she too was worried about her boss.

"Come on, Calleigh," Eric interjected. "He never told us that Ray's death didn't bother him, and we all know it hurt him bad. He still won't talk about it. But he'd talk to you if you went to him."

Calleigh bit her lower lip. The young Cuban man did have a point; she was Horatio's support when it seemed as though he would fall. She was always there when he needed her; she never questioned, never doubted. Her unflinching loyalty lay before him at all times. Calleigh knew she had a power the others didn't, and she knew that in some way her Handsome was hurting.

"Fine," Calleigh conceded. "But I'm waiting until the shift is over. If it's serious, I don't want to break his focus."

"Fair enough," Eric replied, waving his hands in the air submissively. "We expect a full report Monday morning."

Calleigh playfully punched his arm and walked out to the firearms lab.

Another day, another murderer taken off Miami streets. Horatio needed a pick-me-up. He could feel his last hit of cocaine wearing off, and he was getting a little cranky.

His heart rate picked up with every step that brought him closer to his car and closer to salvation. With shaky hand he took his keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the driver side door.

"Horatio!" God damn it.

He clenched his fists, ready to take a swing at the sorry bastard who tried to keep him from his blow. When he turned in the direction of the voice – which he initially failed to recognize given his tunnel vision for the drug – his anger briefly subsided. Of course, that sweet Southern accent is unmistakable.

Horatio eyed Calleigh inquisitively. "Sweetheart?"

Calleigh smiled at the sound of his nickname for her falling off his lips. "Are you okay?" No need to beat around the bush.

Horatio tilted his head. "How do you mean?"

Her smile melted a bit. "We've noticed you've lost some weight. Are you eating well? If not, I can fix you some good Cajun cooking. Put some meat on those bones."

Horatio grinned at her. "I'm fine," he responded in an almost hurried manner. "Thank you for asking, though."

But Calleigh knew better. Something about the way he was acting at that moment was throwing her off. Maybe it was the way he was continually avoiding eye contact with her, or that he was clenching – then unclenching – his fists.

Horatio attempted to turn back to his car to leave. Rage flared in her eyes. "Handsome," she addressed him, grabbing his arm firmly. That threw him off.

"God damn it, Calleigh, I told you I'm fine!" he bellowed, attempting to squirm out of her tightening grip.

With surprising strength, Calleigh spun Horatio back around and slammed his body against the car.

"That just confirms it for me," she said through gritted teeth. "What's going on, Horatio? And don't insult me any further."

The redhead frowned at the tiny blonde pinning him in place. "It's none of your concern."

Calleigh slapped him across his face. "I'm making it my concern! If you don't tell me what's going on, you're going to be hurting a whole lot worse in about five seconds."

"I could write you up for insubordination, assault…"

"I dare you to fucking do it, Horatio. I dare you."

"Get in the car," he ordered his second-in-command.

"Where are you going to take me?" Calleigh demanded.

"Get in the fucking car so I can show you."

Calleigh relinquished her hold of the Lieutenant and entered the car on the passenger side. Horatio entered on the driver's side shortly afterward.

"Open the glove box," he said in a level that was barely above a whisper.

What she found inside shocked her. A sandwich bag with white powder in it.

"Oh, Handsome…"

Horatio took a big gulp and stared at Calleigh as she absentmindedly surveyed the contents of the bag. "You wanted to know what was wrong. There you go."

Tears filled her green eyes. "Damn it, Horatio. You're throwing your career away. What the hell is wrong with you? After all that you've been through with your brother…"

"That's all I have left!" Horatio shouted back, startling her. "And you don't know the half of it, Calleigh! You have no fucking clue!"

Calleigh threw the bag back into the glove box and slammed it shut. She turned in the seat to face her body towards his. "But why drugs, Horatio?" she screamed back. "My father told me he had nothing left once, and he turned to alcohol. Now look at what he's become. That seems almost preferable to what you're doing to yourself."

"Don't you lecture me," Horatio warned. "This is not about you."

"Oh no, it's all about you. You've fucked up big time, Handsome. But I'm not going to watch you go down the same road as your brother. You're too good for that."

"No I'm not," Horatio shot back dejectedly. "I'm just like him…I'm just like my father."

"I don't believe that one second," she replied in a calmer tone. "You're not Raymond. I won't let you become him, either. I'm going to fight for you. This bullshit habit ends now."


End file.
